Between you and me.

I hope that I haven't portrayed myself as an ideal Christian. Because I am not. As much as I strive to walk in His footsteps, I fall short. Right on my face usually. I struggle to do the things everyday, that I know I should or shouldn't do to reach that goal. But I try. And that has to count for something, and it is all we can do. Just try.

Today, while sitting at church, I came to an understanding with God. See, I have to be honest with you. Here in my little spot where I feel like I can say anything because I don't have to say it to anyone's face, I've shared some of my regrets, some of my resentments, and my inability to fully accept the fact that Savannah wasn't mine to keep. . And because I want to share my weaknesses along with my strengths, there is something that I haven't told many people. I don't think I even really understood what my subconsious was whispering to me this whole time.

I have been blaming myself for Savannah's death.

Even though I have tried to counteract those thoughts with the fact there was absolutly nothing I could have done to salvaged her situation, I still blamed myself. And because of this, I have been unaware of the fact that I began resenting my husband. Like I said, until today. Let me explain...

Savannah's condition was between me... her... and God.

God;

Because He planned her life.

Down to the minute she was born, and the second she died.

Her maker, her creater.

The one whom left her unformed for a greater purpose.

Savannah;

Because afterall, this is her story.

And Me;

Her safe haven.

The one who was responsible for her safety.

The one who's womb cradled her,

and was supposed to help form her.

Her home. The heartbeat and voice that she listened to...

and was comforted by.

The resentment towards my husband, whom I love deeply, came out from my own insecurities with her death. He did nothing to deserve my resentment, but it was there. And like I said, I was completely unaware of it.

I am a people pleaser. Have been all my life. But people are mean, and sadly I take everything people say to heart. I thought for sure people were talking about Savannah's death. Not everyday you hear about a baby you know dying. Usually when you hear of babies born with problems it's assumed the mom didn't take care of herself. There are mother's out there that drink and smoke up until the baby that relys on them is born. And everyone has been made aware of the effects this can have on innocent babies. But this doesn't stop some women from doing these things, knowing the chance they are taking for their unborn child's life.

When a baby is born and dies to mother's that deserve so much more than to bury the child that they nurtured, cherished, and loved, I can imagine to some people it may come as a shock, and they may look for any explanations elsewhere. It's human nature to want to point blame somewhere. The mother of these precious beings can be the perfect place to point fingers.

Because of the way society can be, I am more cautious of when and who I tell about Savannah's death. My husband on the other hand, loves to share Savannah with the world. It could be the checker at the grocery store, but if he knows them, he's going to share her story. I am guarded though. Everytime the story came out of his mouth, I feel as though all eyes are on me. Obviously we don't have hours to spend with each person we encounter to share every detail that went into Savannah's complications. So these people, these random aquaintances, are left with their own thoughts.

{"I wonder if she smoked?"...}

{"I wonder if she drank?"...}

{"How awful for the father...

If only the mother would have taken better care of herself."}

I don't know that is what the people are thinking, but everytime the story came out to these random people, this is where my heart would take me, and I would want to crumble. I wanted to hide. My meaning well husband, shared her story in his own way. But I felt guilty... Over, and over and over again. Followed by resentment.

Savannah's death is something that I have come to my own understanding that it doesn't come down to me. I was just the vessel that brought her purpose into the world. There was nothing more I could do. People will say what they feel necessary. This is something I cannot help. I cannot change who people are or what they are going to say. Dwelling on what is untrue and unreal isn't a very good Christian thing to do.

Yes, Savannah's condition was between me... her... and God. There was nothing I could do to change His plans. My husband has every right to tell her story... no matter what people might think of me.

I gave her life... and was not responsible for her death.